


Abyss

by wedjateye



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mindfuck, implied infidelity, mention of suicidal thoughts, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedjateye/pseuds/wedjateye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aya-chan has been kidnapped by Schreint and Aya would do anything to get her back. Schuldig's an utter bastard. No non-con sex, no character death, no physical violence. Heavy emotional angst. No happy resolution. Repost of old fic (2006) from live journal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abyss

Ash and butts cascaded over the windowsill as Yohji stubbed yet another cigarette out. Aya would not approve. Yohji dismissed that thought with a snort, swiping at the rest of the mess with the back of one hand, so that it drifted away on the light evening breeze.   
  
Aya wouldn’t notice. Not now. Not that Aya was at all likely to come to Yohji’s room.   
  
Yohji sighed and resumed his restless pacing. Where was the idiot? Yohji had no idea where to even begin looking. Not that Aya wanted Yohji’s help. The scene in the garage when Yohji confronted him had provided stark proof of that. By the time Yohji stopped wheezing from the fist to the gut, and managed to pull himself upright, he couldn’t even hear the Porsche. Yohji hadn’t seen that punch coming. Hell, he hadn’t seen any of this coming.   
  
An insistent throb started up between Yohji’s eyes. He pressed two fingers to the spot, noticed that they were trembling. Too much nicotine and caffeine.   
  
Everything changed when Takatori died. Aya’s priorities didn’t so much shift, as clarify.   
  
Yohji had thought he and Aya were past the fragile, unspoken early stages of whatever it was they shared. Thought they’d achieved some solidity. Something approaching… permanence. What a joke. When either of them might not return from a mission at any time.   
  
Aya had never forgotten what was most important to him. He’d taken Aya-chan and left without a backwards glance. Yohji was the one proven a fool.   
  
So only a complete idiot would have allowed himself to hope, when sadistic fate drove Aya back into Kritiker’s clutches.   
  
“Where the fuck did you go, Aya?” Yohji snapped, frustrated at his own impotence. And why did you have your mission coat on? Please don’t let that mean you’ve found out where Aya-chan is being held and are suicidally storming in alone. Not even you could be that reckless, surely.   
  
Images of Aya in Takatori-induced rages flooded Yohji’s brain. He groaned. Trying to second-guess Aya’s behaviour, when the wrongs done to his family inspired it, was impossible. Aya was always volatile. Now he was a puff of air away from self-immolation. He shied from every soothing touch. Every attempt at comfort.   
  
The only release Aya had allowed himself since Weiss reformed, was the rough, almost violent sex he’d demanded with silent desperation when he appeared in Yohji’s room late at night. Yohji quickly learned that any attempt at tenderness would be forcefully rejected. So night after night, he had given Aya what he wanted – how could he refuse? Yohji pounded into Aya’s body for as long as he could, knowing that when it was over Aya would collapse in exhaustion.   
  
The temporary respite had to be worth it. Aya didn’t seem to sleep at all otherwise. And for a few hours Yohji could hold Aya; brush hair away from his shadowed eyes; press his lips to Aya’s temple; pretend that he could hold the pain at bay.   
  
Yohji doesn’t like to think of himself as an idiot. Not even a lovelorn one.   
  
It only ever lasted until Aya clawed his way free from his nightmares. Clawed his way out of Yohji’s arms, out of his bed, out of his room. And now, he feared, out of his life altogether.   
  
For the last week, Aya had barely spoken to his teammates. He closed down all attempts to communicate, outside of mission planning or shop essentials, with increasingly frosty glares and silences. He hadn’t shown up for half of his shifts – the ones where he was supposed to work with Yohji. His bedroom door was always locked, and he never answered Yohji’s increasingly frantic knocks.   
  
Yohji had been startled to find Aya standing immobile in the garage earlier. One hand frozen on the door handle of the Porsche. Aya’s face slid quickly into impenetrable hostility. But Yohji was already in motion; shocked into action by the glimpse of unguarded thought he’d witnessed.   
  
Whatever his destination tonight, Aya didn’t expect to return.   
  
Cursing himself for his inadequate reflexes, Yohji lit another cigarette. Maybe he should have microchipped Aya with a GPS tracker while he slept. Done something. Anything. Not watched as his lover disintegrated before his eyes.   
  
Footsteps – uncharacteristically loud, but still recognisably Aya’s, sounded in the hallway. Yohji flung his cigarette towards the window, not waiting to see if it made it safely.   
  
Aya was halfway through his bedroom door and Yohji sprinted, certain he wouldn’t make it before it slammed in his face. Determined to break it down this time if he had to.   
  
But Aya left it hanging open, stepped back into his room and watched as Yohji skidded to a halt, just inside the doorway, confused.   
  
Words tumbled over each other in a torrent from Yohji’s mouth.   
  
“Where were you? Where did you go? Are you injured? Did you find anything?”   
  
Aya stared fixedly at the floor by Yohji’s feet. Yohji took a deep breath and a hesitant step forward, one hand outstretched. Aya snapped to attention, moving backwards hurriedly, eyes finally meeting Yohji’s gaze.   
  
“Aya, please talk to me, I’m going crazy here,” Yohji pleaded softly.   
  
A tremor passed along Aya’s body. For a moment he looked bereft. Drowning in helplessness, before implacable control returned. Yohji’s involuntary start towards Aya was stilled by a single, indomitable gesture from Aya.   
  
“It’s over.”   
  
Aya’s voice was so raw that Yohji had to strain to make sense of the words.   
  
“What’s over? What’s going on, Aya?” Yohji sounded small and anxious to his own ears.   
  
“We’re over. I can’t be with you.”   
  
Yohji gaped. The room’s supply of air seemed to exit in a noisy rush that drowned out whatever Aya said next.   
  
“No,” Yohji rasped.   
  
Aya’s eyes glittered, his face hard as he unbuttoned his mission coat before yanking at the material until it fell to the floor. Yohji shook his head in incomprehension.   
  
“Can’t you see, Kudoh? You can’t give me what I want any more.”   
  
The words jolted Yohji’s brain into gear. Bruises. Purple-red. Lots of them. In a trail along Aya’s neck, tracking along his exposed collar bones, disappearing beneath the neck line of his tank top… Pointing to an inescapable conclusion.   
  
“It doesn’t matter.” The words shocked Yohji as much as Aya. But he knew them to be true. “I don’t care, Aya, whomever you were with, whatever you’ve done, it doesn’t change-”   
  
“It changes _everything_ ,” Aya snarled, incensed. “It’s over. _You can’t give me what I want._ ”   
  
“And he can?” Yohji’s voice cracked. He shook his head, feeling fatigue descending in a smothering veil.   
  
Aya sagged. His rage seemingly deserting him.   
  
“Yes, he can,” he answered quietly.   
  
“Don’t do this Aya,” Yohji begged. “Don’t shut me out like this.”   
  
Aya straightened his shoulders and Yohji recognised Abyssinian’s mission stance.   
  
“I want you out of my life.”   
  
“Aya,” Yohji whispered brokenly.   
  
“I’ll kill you if I have to.”   
  
Yohji had never had that face turned on him before, for all that he’d seen it many times. The last sight of hundreds of dark beasts, dispatched to hell by Aya’s blade.   
  
Yohji closed his eyes, and imagined dropping to his knees, head bowed. The skin on his neck prickled against a rush of air that felt frighteningly real.   
  
Yohji snapped his eyes open, averted them from that chilling gaze. He stumbled back against the doorframe. Nothing left to say. He clicked the door closed quietly on his way out.   
  
Aya’s stomach heaved jerkily against a throat clamped so tightly closed, that he thought he might suffocate. He slumped to the ground and scrabbled to retrieve his mobile phone from the pocket of his coat, while forcing gulps of air into his lungs.   
  
Just one more thing to do.   
  
Aya dragged himself to his feet and staggered over to the window, allowing loathing to wash over him and spur him past unwanted emotions.   
  
The prick answered on the first ring.   
  
“It’s done.”   
  
“Ohhh, I know kitten, my body is still _undulating_. I haven’t even had time for a cigarette yet.”   
  
~ Don’t grind your teeth my love, I much prefer my pets with their bite intact.~   
  
Aya forced his jaw to unclench. The fingers of his right hand gripped the edge of the windowsill until his whole arm numbed. Amused laughter issued from the phone line, burrowed into his brain and echoed back onto itself.   
  
~I so enjoy you breathing heavily into my ear. Makes your insistence on using the phone worthwhile.~   
  
Aya barely resisted the urge to hurl his mobile into the darkness.   
  
“Stubborn kitten.”   
  
“Just keep up your end of the deal, Schuldig.” Aya grated.   
  
“I don’t know, I was a bit disappointed with the show you put on for me with the rent boy before,” Schuldig teased.   
  
~The delicious tang of anguish almost made up for it.~   
  
Aya jerked away from the window, took two quick steps towards his katana before the roaring in his ears subsided enough for him to hear Schuldig ‘tsking’ down the phone line.   
  
“Now, now Aya, you know I’d be long gone before you even left your room. And Tot doesn’t need all that much urging before she gets bored with her dolls and starts pulling their heads off.”   
  
Aya squeezed his eyes tightly closed.   
  
~That whore would have done you for free, you know. He was thrilled when you chose him. Even though he thought it meant you must want some real kinky shit.~   
  
“I’ve done what you wanted Schuldig, there’s nothing more to say.”   
  
“Don’t you want an update on your beloved?”   
  
~Pathetic little slut felt filthy when you kicked him out of the car so quickly.~   
  
“Tell me, or don’t tell me. Just get on with it.” Aya growled.   
  
“He’s lying on his bed, getting drunk, and wondering if the hook in his ceiling would hold his weight if he danced with his own wire…”   
  
“Schuldig!”   
  
~Whores are all alike – the other one crawled off to see if he can’t shoot enough shit up his arm to erase the chill you put into his soul.~   
  
“Oh, you thought I meant your precious Aya?” Schuldig purred.   
  
~Did you realise you loved him when you picked a whore that looked just like him? Or when you could barely stand to let his pale imitation touch you?~   
  
Aya pulled the phone away from his ear, finger stabbing towards the disconnect button.   
  
“She’s fine,” Schuldig’s voice emerged tinnily, freezing Aya in place. He raised the phone back to his ear.   
  
“I’ll be seeing her later on, in fact.”   
  
“Where is she?” Aya flinched at the hint of entreaty that had crept into his tone.   
  
“She’s safe. Just waiting for a kiss from her Prince Charming to awaken her.”   
  
~Try not to swallow your tongue kitten.~   
  
“Don’t you dare touch her.” Aya’s voice shook with rage.   
  
~Better me than you, sweetheart. Everyone you touch dies.~   
  
The reverberations of the phone shattering against the wall had barely faded when Aya heard the unmistakable sound of an engine below. When he reached the window, the street below was deserted.


End file.
